Behind Closed Doors
by Katief20
Summary: The village of Aidensfield is left shocked by a particularly distasteful crime. The grave of a former local solicitor is robbed. Nick Rowan disturbs the perpetrators at the scene and comes off the worst for it whilst his colleagues set to work to find out who is responsible but find out not all is at it seems Thank you for reviewing x
1. Chapter 1

Dr. James Radcliffe was bone shakingly tired. Kate Rowan was away for a few days having gone to London to visit her Aunt Eileen who had been quite poorly. That left him, even with a locum's help, with a pretty hefty workload. At about nine o'clock that Wednesday evening there had been a call to one of the hill farms near Aidensfield. Old Nellie Robinson had "passed on" - not unexpectedly as she had been ailing and bedridden for months. James was sorry it had happened whilst Kate was away as she had been caring for the old lady and had struck up a strong rapport with the family. She would be upset Nellie had died during her enforced absence.

He dealt with the paperwork and had a cup of tea with the family. It was nearly eleven-thirty when he left the farm and five to midnight when he got to Aidensfield. He could not face driving all the way back to Whitby. He decided he would go to the surgery in Aidensfield, phone his housekeeper and let her know he would be back for morning surgery, finish up the notes and then sleep in the small bedsit above the surgery.

He pulled the car up outside the surgery, got out, collected his bag and locked the car. He went to the surgery door and had just put the key in the lock when he heard someone behind him. He swung round and was dazzled by a torch in his face.

"Oh – sorry, James." Nick Rowan had been making a patrol of the village. He lowered the torch. "I saw someone outside the surgery but didn't realise it was you."

"Had a late call," James explained. "Nellie Robinson has died."

"Kate'll be sorry to hear that." Nick bit his lip. "I'll call up at the farm, in the morning, see the family."

"Yes I think they'd appreciate that. Will you tell Kate or –"

"I'm going to phone her in the morning, I'll let her know." Nick paused. "You staying here tonight?"

James nodded. "I think so. I'll drive back to Whitby tomorrow. Or rather," as the church clock struck midnight, "later today!"

"You can stay at the house James," Nick said, "you don't have to sleep here."

James hesitated, then said, "No, its fine. I'll be comfortable enough. Might have some breakfast though if its going?"

"You know you're welcome."

"How's Kate's Aunt Eileen doing?" James asked.

"She's getting much better, Kate said." Nick paused. "It was pneumonia and it was nasty but she seems more herself. In fact, Kate mentioned she may come home on Monday and then in a few weeks, Eileen is going to come and stay with us for awhile, help her get over it properly."

"Good." James smiled. "You know, Kate's only been gone a few days but I'll be glad when she's back. I've no idea how I ran my practice single handed for so long."

"She says much the same thing when you're away!" Nick replied. "Well, best get on. Don't forget to call in, in the morning."

"All right Nick. See you later."

Nick walked on, checking doors were locked, and that all was quiet in the village. James settled himself at his desk in the surgery, and made a quick call to his kindly housekeeper who was very used to middle of the night calls. She promised him she would look after his two daughters and offered to have breakfast ready for him when he got home. She was quite affronted when James explained he already had an offer elsewhere!

* * *

Nick's last circle around the village took him past the little churchyard. He did not plan to go in but as he was walking past he heard – something. He wasn't quite sure what but it merited closer inspection.

So he lifted the latch of the gate to the churchyard and walked up the gravelly path leading between the gravestones which wound up to the church. He didn't see anything as he shone his torch here and there but he was absolutely convinced he had heard something and wanted to make sure all was well.

And then he heard a noise, behind him this time, and as he half turned a shovel was brought neatly down across the side of his head. He went down hard, losing the protection of his police helmet, his torch dropping from his hand. And as he lay, dazed, the shovel was brought down again and after that, the world went black.

Unbeknownst to Nick who lay unconscious and unable to defend himself his assailant raised the shovel again. But their accomplice grabbed their arm snapping, "Are you mad? He's had enough! If you hit him again you'll probably kill him! Lets get out of here, we've done what we came for."

Nick's assailant hesitated but finally lowered the shovel which dropped to the floor with a clang. And without a backward glance or thought for their victim the pair fled over the wall at the other end of the churchyard

* * *

James sat back in his chair at the surgery. He looked at the clock. It was gone one o'clock in the morning! More than time for bed.

He turned off his desk lamp and went out into the passage, turning left to go up the stairs. Opposite his consulting room, was the waiting room and to the right was the locked front door. At the end of the passage past the stairs were two rooms which formed a small dispensary and store room. Upstairs was a small flat which he and Kate had discussed converting into further surgery accommodation but hadn't got around to. For now it was very useful in its current form with a comfortable bedroom and small kitchen.

But just as James put his foot on the bottom stair he heard a noise at the front door. It was like a scuffling noise. And as he hesitated there was a faint tap at the door.

"Hallo!" he put on the passage light. "Anyone there?"

There was no reply and he felt uneasy. He had heard something and he wasn't going to risk opening that door fully until he knew what was going on.

He kept the chain on and opened the door a fraction. There was no one there, he thought, then he looked down and – in the light from the passage, he saw Nick Rowan huddled on the step. Nick looked up at him and James gasped as he saw the blood on his face – copious amounts of it too.

"Nick!" James opened the door properly and knelt in front of him. "What in God's name has happened to you?"

"Hit over the head – shovel."

"You don't say," James said wryly. "Where?"

"Churchyard. Grave – think they were robbing a grave."

"What!" James was stunned. "But how in God's name have you got from the churchyard to here in this state?"

"Dunno. Slow, took ages. Kept stopping."

"I'm not surprised. All right, now listen. I'm just going to go and put the surgery lights back on and call the cavalry, then I'll come back here and help you down into my consulting room, all right?"

"Yeah. Not going anywhere."

"No, I don't think you are." James straightened up. "Two ticks."

He ran down the passage back to his room. He snapped on the lights and grabbed at one or two things he knew he would need. At the same time he pulled the phone on his desk to him and dialled over to Ashfordly Police Station.

* * *

Oscar Blaketon, working at his desk, clearing another pile of admin paperwork, looked up at the tentative knock on his door. It was young Phil Bellamy.

"Call from Dr Radcliffe at Aidensfield, Sarge." The lad looked tense, Oscar thought and he braced himself. "He's working late and Nick Rowan has landed on the surgery step – been clobbered good and hard in the churchyard. Disturbing someone robbing a grave apparently Sarge."

Blaketon took off his glasses.

"Then lets get over there lad. Now!"


	2. Chapter 2

Nick looked up wearily as James came back to him.

"Now then," James said, "If I help you, do you think you can get down to my room and onto the bed there?"

"Yeah."

"All right, lets try it. Don't worry if you can't, I've got the cavalry en route." James supported Nick's weight as he got to his feet. As Nick half staggered down the passage James again wondered how the hell he had managed to get to the surgery from the churchyard at the opposite end of the village.

James helped Nick onto the examination table in his consulting room and got him to lie back. Nick groaned as James snapped on the light over the bed.

"Sorry Nick, I need to see what I'm doing. I'm going to get a dressing on that head wound first, see if we can mop up the gore a bit. Don't worry about it, heads always look dramatic!"

Skilfully James got a dressing on the gash over Nick's eye – they could worry about cleaning and stitching later. As he finished Nick said weakly, "Sorry James, I feel-"

Quickly James passed him a bowl and waited as Nick was very sick.

"Hell, sorry."

"Don't apologise!" James took away the bowl and rinsed it into the sluice and passed it back to Nick. "You might need this back though." He kept his voice cheerful but he was quietly worried.

"Now," he said, "can you slip off your greatcoat and jacket and then I can have a look at you properly."

Nick managed this with a bit of help and slipped off his tie. He lay back, eyes closed.

"How long were you out for?" James asked him.

"Honestly don't know. Not long I think." Nick opened his eyes. "Someone needs to get to the churchyard."

"Well as I said help is on the way so I'm sure that will be taken care of," James said gently shining a light into Nick's eyes. "All right. Lets check your heart rate and your blood pressure."

Nick watched him anxiously as he did this. James straightened up. "Okay, that's fine." He paused. "You need stitches, x-rays and observation."

"Hospital job?"

"I'm afraid so."

Nick groaned heavily. Then grabbed for the bowl again.

"All right, don't worry. You'll be fine," James said gently as he again rinsed out the bowl and gave it straight back to Nick.

"Kate, don't tell her.."

"If I don't tell her," James said, "it'll be me who'll need hospital treatment next. But look, lets worry about that later." He glanced up. "Sounds like the cavalry's here.

Blaketon and Phil clattered into the room. Blaketon looked shocked at Nick. "Bloody hell, lad," he said. He looked sharply at the doctor.

"Concussion without a doubt." James said softly. "Luckily I'd had a night call and decided to spend the night here rather than go back to Whitby. Nick saw me come in here earlier in the evening so when it happened he somehow made his way here for help. I've really no idea how he got from the churchyard to here in that state. He just said a grave had been disturbed – robbed, in fact – and he'd been hit over the head with the shovel they were using."

"Sarge," Nick said weakly and they moved over to him.

"Take it easy Nick," Phil said gently.

"Someone needs to get up there…grave's been opened.."

"Aye I know lad." Blaketon put a hand on his shoulder. "But you're our most important priority now so we'll get you off to that hospital and then we'll go and see what's what." He paused. "Did you see anyone or anything lad?"

"No, sorry Sarge, got me from behind.." Nick paused. "They hit me twice. First time, not too much damage, just knocked my helmet off and knocked me off my feet, then they hit me again." Blaketon winced at this. " Don't remember much after that."

"It doesn't matter lad at all." Blaketon spoke soothingly. "We'll get you looked after and then – well, someone's going to be sorry for this." He looked grimly at Phil who nodded in silent agreement.

* * *

The next morning Blaketon stood by the disturbed grave with the distressed vicar. The grave had been opened and unfortunately jewellery buried with the elderly gentleman only laid to rest the previous week had been taken.

"In all my years as a servant to the Lord," the vicar said somewhat piously, "It has never been my misfortune to encounter such - well, profanity Sergeant. I can't think what other word fits the crime."

"Aye." Blaketon shook his head. He looked around a moment then said, "Mr Frankland was buried last week I understand?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"And were there any other funerals at all?"

The vicar looked a bit startled then said, "Oh, just poor old Mrs Grimshaw. She's over there, under the trees."

"Her grave hasn't been touched." Blaketon paused. "Though that means nowt. They might have been going on to hers next had they not been caught."

"I wouldn't think that she would have been buried with the crown jewels Sergeant," murmured the vicar. "There was hardly any money to give her a respectable send off I understand."

"Which undertakers conducted the funerals? Bernie Scripps?"

"He did for Mrs Grimshaw. But not for Mr Frankland. I understand the family used Armithwaites over in Ashfordly."

Blaketon nodded. They were quite a grand outfit and Frankland had been a well to do man. It made sense. But it also followed either the robbers had taken a very lucky guess about what Frankland had taken to the grave with him or they knew exactly what was there in the first place.

"Well, I'll go and speak to the family," he said now. "There's a daughter I understand?"

The vicar said, "Hmm, yes, and she's quite a formidable character. She's living in her father's house at the moment. But she had little to do with the funeral. She was estranged from her father and only came here to see him buried. The arrangements were primarily made by his sister, Agatha."

* * *

After the events in the churchyard the previous night, Bernie Scripps, washing down the garage forecourt, was not surprised to see Phil Bellamy arrive in the Police Panda car.

"All right Bernie?"

Bernie turned off the hosepipe. "Aye. I've been expecting you. After the goings on last night. How's young PC Rowan doing?"

"He's been hurt Bernie but he'll mend. He's going to be in the hospital a day or two though."

"Nasty business."

Phil nodded. "I understand that you didn't conduct the funeral for Mr Frankland?"

"No lad. I wouldn't have expected to. A grand affair like that."

"But you conducted Mrs Grimshaw's?"

Bernie looked shocked. "Have they broke into her grave an' all?"

"No Bernie. Hers and Frankland's were the only two funerals last week. We're trying to find out if they were targeting Frankland's because they knew what was there or whether they planned to target both."

"Well old Joan Grimshaw were buried wi' nowt," Bernie said frankly. "Poor as a church mouse, hardly left enough to cover the cost of her funeral. In fact it wouldn't have covered it except I went a bit easy on my charges, like. Had to see her off proper." He paused. "And it were no secret. Most round about knew Joan had nowt worth stealing when she were alive and certainly nowt worth stealing when she were dead. Old Frankland though, well, that's another matter."

* * *

James had gone into Ashfordly General to see Nick. He found him lying quietly in bed with his eyes shut but he opened them when James approached and sat down by his bed.

"Good morning," James said lightly running an eye over him. Nick looked better now the blood and gore had gone and the gash in his head neatly stitched but he looked white and tired.

"Thanks for coming in James," Nick said. "And thanks for last night as well."

"Not at all! I'll never know how you managed to get to the surgery in that state but thank heavens you did!" James gave him a smile. "Now I've spoken to Kate and although I did reassure her you will be perfectly fine she's heading home. She'll be here later today I think."

Nick sighed. "She had to fly down to London to look after Eileen and now she's had to do the same thing in reverse. I'm fine James, she doesn't need to rush back."

"She wants to. I don't think she'll believe you're all right until she's seen you for herself."

Nick nodded. "Have you heard any more about what happened last night?"

"Not really. I only know it was John Frankland's grave which was opened – he was buried last week – and that jewellery buried with him was stolen."

Nick flinched. "Who the hell would do that?"

"Someone pretty ruthless," James said soberly, "and heaven knows they need finding. The distress they've caused to Mr Frankland's family, not to mention the state you ended up in after getting in their way – well, the sooner they're taken out of commission the better I'd say!"


	3. Chapter 3

Going to see John Frankland's daughter was difficult but had to be done. Blaketon took Alf Ventress with him

Clarissa Frankland was in her early thirties. Whatever Blaketon had been expecting, she wasn't it. She was a well built lady - hefty, almost mannish you might say. She wore no trace of make up and her dark hair was pinned back into a severe bun. At the moment she was temporarily staying in the beautiful home on the edge of Aidensfield where her father had lived before his untimely death of a heart attack. A former colliery owner's home it stood in an acre of its own grounds, beautiful and graceful yet somehow not ostentatious.

Clarissa sat in a chair in the sun filled morning room watching as a maid, a young woman in her early twenties, no more, brought in tea and then discreetly left the room. Both Alf and Blaketon noted she had been crying. Blaketon wondered if Miss Frankland was the root cause.

Clarissa nodded at the tea. "Help yourselves if you want it," she said cursorily.

The police officers looked at each other. For once even Alf Ventress wasn't tempted feeling quite discouraged by Clarissa's open hostility. Blaketon took a deep breath.

"Obviously you'll know why we are here-"

"Yes. That dreadful vicar phoned this morning. I've put him in touch with my Aunt - as she made all the funeral arrangements, she can deal with this. I live in Kent Sergeant and I shall be going back there shortly."

"I have been informed that you were estranged from your father?"

"I'm not sure what relevance that has to this. I suppose the vicar has been gossiping?" Clarissa snorted. "Well anyway its true. Aunt Agatha told me he'd died, I just came here to see him go into the grave. I hated my father Sergeant, I'm not going to give you any flannel."

"May we ask why?" Alf asked.

Clarissa gave the elderly Constable a disdainful glance. Alf met it levelly conveying he cared little what she thought of him. She looked away first and finally deigned to answer.

"Father was all he seemed on the outside. Behind closed doors he was a bully. He destroyed my mother and he tried to destroy me. He told my mother how to dress, who she could speak to. He would damn well have done it with me except I wouldn't let it happen, oh no!" She snorted. "He found fault with me the day I was born. I was a girl, you see, and he wanted a son. But as Mother could have no more children after me, well nothing to be done. He packed me off to boarding school as soon as he could, despite Mother's protestations. Poor Mother. I think he was responsible for her death you know. She just gave up on life. About three years ago. I came back for her funeral of course and told Father to his face I would never come home again unless it was for his funeral."

Blaketon cleared his throat. "So you can't think of anyone who might be responsible for – this?"

"Heaven knows. You need to speak to Aunt Ag." Clarissa shrugged. "She thought the world of Father. She would have thought differently if she really knew what he was like."

"Would you be able to identify the jewellery which was taken?" asked Blaketon.

She looked levelly at him.

"Oh yes Sergeant. A locket which was my Mother's, personally engraved with her initials, and her wedding ring. I think his watch went in the coffin with him too. Aunt Ag oversaw all that, it was all done and dusted and the lid screwed down by the time I got here. I would have liked to have had Mother's jewellery - to remember her by - but he left express wishes that when he died they were to be buried with him. He denied me everything." She shrugged. "Even this house, his estate. In the will it all goes to Aunt Ag and if she predeceased him, to some distant cousin who I've never even met."

"How do you feel about that?" Alf asked her.

"Resigned," she replied. "I expected no less. Oh, I could challenge the will I suppose but in truth I want none of it."

* * *

Feeling rather stunned by the interview the two police officers went out to their car. As they got there, the maid came marching out the door with her hat and coat on and carrying a small bag.

"You all right there Miss?" asked Alf.

"Three years worked for them lot and now I've got me marching orders and no wages either," she said venomously.

"Miss Frankland?" Blaketon asked.

"Old man Frankland said he'd leave me summat in his will. I got nowt. And t'daughter says she won't be paying me wages as its nowt to do wi'her And I've had no truck wi' Frankland's sister. So out on me ear I suppose."

"Where will you go?" Alf asked her gently.

"Back to me Mam's in the village. And good riddance to them all!" With that, she marched off down the drive.

Alf and Blaketon exchanged glances. Whilst outwardly John Frankland portrayed an image as a likeable, respected country solicitor it would seem behind closed doors was a very different story.

"What now Sarge?" Alf asked.

"We go and see Aunt Agatha," was the reply.

* * *

Gina Ward was watering the flowerbaskets at the front of the pub when Phil Bellamy strolled up having been on house to house enquiries in Aidensfield.

"All right Gina."

"Hiya Phil. Time for a coffee?"

"Yeah, think so. I've just been doing some routine enquiries round t'village. Waste of time – no one saw owt of what was going on last night." Phil sighed. "Been a bit of a day all round."

"How's Nick doing?"

"He'll be all right. Hospital should let him out tomorrow."

"Its just sick though isn't it?" Gina shook her head. "Why would anyone want to rob a grave for heaven's sake?"

"Aye. We need to get to the bottom of it. Whoever they are, they thought nowt of walloping Nick over the head and leaving him lying on t' ground. He's lucky he wasn't more seriously hurt. Although," Phil paused, "when I first saw him I thought it were worse than it turned out to be."

"Come on." Gina put her hand on his arm. "Lets get you that coffee before you have to get back to it." She paused. "It's a shame. I liked Mr Frankland. He used to come in here now and then for lunches with clients. He was always so polite. Not like that daughter of his! She hadn't seen him for years you know and came back from his funeral. She was rude and didn't have a good word to say to anyone. Poor Mr Frankland, having a daughter like that!"

"She might have had her reasons," Phil said gently.

Gina's snort in reply conveyed her opinion of Clarissa Frankland in no uncertain terms.

* * *

Blaketon had called into the hospital to see Nick who, although still feeling a bit groggy, was nevertheless eager to hear how the investigation was progressing.

"Wish I had more to tell you lad," Blaketon admitted. "No one saw anything amiss last night – everyone was in their beds I think! We've spoken to Mr Frankland's daughter – she only came back to the village to bury her father. No love lost there! I've left Ventress to go the undertakers to see if anything comes out of that but I'm not holding my breath." He paused. "We're going over to see Frankland's sister later and seeing what she can tell us. Apparently she inherits the lot."

"His daughter gets nothing?" Nick was startled.

"No. They were estranged a long time by all accounts. The jewellery that was stolen belonged to Mrs Frankland – she died some years ago- and Mr Frankland left express wishes it be buried with him. Now, the daughter reckons he did that deliberate like to stop her from having it as she said he knows she would have wanted something of her mother's."

"Couldn't she have asked for it, after he died?"

"She said she got there too late for owt to be done. He was in the coffin, lid screwed down when she arrived. And I don't think she wanted it that much that she'd have dug the old bugger up to get it back!"

Nick managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry Sarge. I just didn't see a thing. I heard someone behind me and turned and that was it."

Blaketon looked appraisingly at him. "Did a fair job. But you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, well, not that there was much to remember. I heard a noise in the churchyard, went in, heard something behind me and turned round. Next thing I got the shovel they'd used to dig out the grave round my head. The first time I went down and then I got clobbered again and, well, it was lights out after that. I just didn't see a thing until I woke up a bit later, still lying on the path with the shovel next to me!"

"Who the hell are we dealing with Rowan?" Blaketon shook his head wonderingly.

"Pretty determined lot, Sarge." Nick paused. "There must have been more than one of them surely to dig out the grave and so on?"

Blaketon nodded. "That's the theory we're working on." He shook his head. "Have to say lad all my years in this job and its still got the ability to throw something at you. Never heard of owt like this before!"

"No."

Blaketon changed tack. "When will Dr Rowan be joining us?"

"Her train gets in about four o'clock." Nick paused. "I didn't want her worried."

"She would have wanted to know if you were in here lad."

"Yeah." Nick sighed restlessly. "I wanted to go home really but they're saying I have to stay here tonight."

"Aye, so do as you're told," Blaketon said with mock severity. "And I don't want to see you back in that duty room until you're fit and proper to be there!"

But as he left Nick was mulling things over in his mind. Lying in hospital there wasn't much else to do. And he wondered however far-fetched it seemed, how badly had Clarissa Frankland wanted that jewellery?

* * *

Alf Ventress had got in to see Charles Armithwaite but without much joy. The elderly Funeral Director was incandescent at any inference his firm was somehow involved in the nefarious goings on. He was so flustered he did not even offer a courtesy cup of tea which in Alf's mind counted against him straight away.

"You want a list of my staff!" the elderly gentleman repeated in response to Alf's request.

"Aye sir. Just to rule people out if you don't mind."

"Well I can tell you now. There's myself, my two sons William and David, my very loyal secretary Miss Jessop and Mr Friar who has worked here for the best part of forty years. Now really Constable if you honestly believe any of us here had any part in these dreadful goings on –"

Alf sighed. This clearly was a definite dead end.

* * *

James collected Kate at the station. "Straight to the hospital?" he asked her. "Its outside visiting so you might need to get past Matron but I don't think you'll have too much trouble with that!" He looked at her. "Are you all right? You look tired."

"Fine. I just,well, didn't sleep much last night." Kate settled herself in the car. "James – be honest. Nick is all right isn't he?"

"Kate, he's fine. He gave me a fright when he turned up at the surgery. You know what head wounds are like and he was covered in gore. Definitely concussed but he is definitely fine. He's just being kept in to make sure that's all. You'll be able to take him home tomorrow."

Kate relaxed, satisfied.

"How's your Aunt Eileen doing?"

"Much better. I was happy to leave her." Kate looked over at James. "Have they any idea who robbed the grave or why?"

"Nothing as yet," James replied. "It's a pretty bad business."

"Yes." Kate ran a hand over her eyes. "And Nellie Robinson died. I would have liked to have been there. I must call in to the family, pay my respects."

James nodded. "She went very peacefully, Kate. If it helps."

* * *

As James had predicted getting in to see Nick outside of visiting hours didn't present many problems for Kate. He was in a side room anyway so she wasn't disturbing anyone.

"Hey!" She gave Nick a kiss. "I leave you for five minutes on your own –"

He smiled as he hugged her. "Its good to see you. But I didn't want you upset or worried!"

"Well I might have been a teeny bit worried!" Kate smiled. "All right a lot worried!"

"There's no need to be, I'm fine. In fact I could come home now -?"

"Not happening. You've been told to stay tonight so you're staying," Kate said firmly.

Nick sighed. "How's Eileen doing?"

"Much better – she sent her best wishes by the way. She'll come up in a week or two to spend some time with us." Kate paused. "I can't believe this Nick! I know the Franklands. Well I knew Mr Frankland. He was a well respected man. Who would want to do this?"

"No idea and I'm not sure we've made much progress in finding out yet," Nick admitted. "Lets just hope there aren't any repeat incidents!" He paused. "Although, with the Franklands, the story behind closed doors is a bit different to what the outside world saw. He was estranged from his daughter you know."

"How sad," Kate said softly.

"Yeah. Although we don't know the full story yet. We've only heard the daughter's side of things. Blaketon is going to see Agatha Frankland, John Frankland's sister, later so we might get an entirely different version to that of Clarissa Frankland, the daughter, who is very bitter towards her father."

"Robbing the dead whilst they're in their grave!" Kate shivered. "Its dreadful." She caught Nick's eye and mischievously added "Although of course not as bad as hitting the poor local constable over the head with the shovel used to do the deed!"


	4. Chapter 4

Sergeant Blaketon took Phil Bellamy with him to interview Agatha Frankland It was a very different interview to the one with Clarissa Frankland. They were let in to the rambling old house on the outskirts of Whitby, formerly a Vicarage, by a friendly lady who introduced herself as "Miss Brice, Agatha's companion." Agatha was in the conservatory of the house which looked out over stunning moorland scenery to the sea.

Agatha was of slim build in her sixties. She had greying hair clipped neatly back and was smartly if soberly dressed. She greeted the two police officers pleasantly and invited them to sit down. Blaketon observed she seemed distressed and her hands shook a little.

"Forgive me Sergeant." She noticed him looking at her. "Its just been such an awful shock you know."

"I am sorry about all this Miss Frankland," he said gently. "However we do need to discuss matters with you."

"Yes of course. Oh Rosalie thank you," she said as Miss Brice brought in tea.

"Shall I leave you to it Agatha?" she asked.

"Stay please!" Agatha looked at the policemen. "That is all right?"

"Of course."

Phil took out his notebook and they got down to matters.

"Before we begin," Agatha said, "I have been told one of your Constables was assaulted as he came across the crime whilst it was being committed? Is he all right?"

Blaketon noted Clarissa Frankland had made no effort to ask about PC Rowan's welfare and instantly warmed to Agatha.

"He is in hospital but should be able to leave tomorrow," he replied.

"Oh, well that is good news, such a relief."

"Yes, he was very lucky to be not more seriously hurt." Blaketon paused. "We have spoken to Clarissa, Miss Frankland."

"Oh that dreadful girl. I hate to think what she has been saying. She never missed an opportunity to malign her poor father's name!"

"She did express some quite strong opinions." Blaketon spoke unusually carefully for him.

"Yes I expect she did! John, my brother you know, he did do his best but the truth is Clarissa was such a difficult girl!"

"How was the relationship between her father and mother?" Blaketon asked.

Agatha clicked her teeth. "John doted on Mirabel. But Mirabel was so weak - I mean in her mind. She could hardly say boo to a goose! John did have to, well, help her out you know. She hardly knew her own mind!"

Blaketon and Phil exchanged glances. "Help her out?" Blaketon asked.

"Well not in a bad way. But she did dither so and sometimes, well it got on my nerves at times!" Agatha sighed. "And Clarissa! Completely impossible even as a child! John wanted her to follow him you know, go into the law, and she would not have it!"

"Perhaps she wanted to do something else?" Blaketon proffered.

"She became a teacher. But I think she just did that to spite her father."

Blaketon's sympathies were beginning to swivel back toward Clarissa Frankland in this whole sorry business.

"Miss Frankland," Blaketon said, wanting to get this interview over now, "can you think of anyone who may have done this? Perhaps who had a grudge against your brother?"

"Oh no Sergeant." Agatha clasped her hands. "John was a very well thought of man."

"The jewellery which was stolen," Blaketon went on, "I understand some of it was Mrs Frankland's?"

"Oh there was the most terrible fuss!" Agatha waved a hand in disgust. "John left a letter saying that in the event of his death he wanted to be buried with that jewellery. The arrangements for the funeral were left in my hands. Clarissa would have nothing to do with it. I am surprised she even came to the funeral! So as John wanted, the jewellery was placed in his coffin. Then of course Clarissa appeared and demanded her mother's jewellery. Well it was in the coffin, we could hardly ask for it back! And after all John's wishes were quite clear."

Phil and Blaketon glanced quickly at each other. Phil said, "Happen I can understand why Miss Frankland might've wanted it. It belonged to her mother after all."

"She lost all rights to anything with her appalling behaviour over the years," Agatha replied robustly. "You know I suppose she gets nothing in the will. She says she isn't going to contest it but, we'll see. I have no stomach for a fight but I really don't see why Clarissa should get a penny piece!"

As they drove away from the house, Phil, in the passenger seat looked over at his Sergeant. "What do you reckon Sarge?"

Blaketon paused, then, "There's no love lost between the Misses Frankland. But I'm not sure if that really helps us, lad."

* * *

Kate drove Nick home from the hospital the next morning to his relief. But she'd noticed he seemed quiet and she wondered what was bothering him.

She got him comfortable on the sofa – he refused point blank to go to bed – and made him a cup of tea. Then she sat on the chair opposite with her own tea regarding him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked.

"You seem quiet. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. I just can't help thinking about something Blaketon said when he came into the hospital yesterday."

Kate frowned. "What's that?"

"John Frankland was buried with his wife's locket and wedding ring. He left a letter saying that those pieces should be buried with him. Now, at the funeral, Clarissa turns up and demands those same pieces in memory of her mother."

"And they were in the coffin by that point?"

"Right. Now what Blaketon said was, much as she hated her father and wanted her mother's jewellery, we can rule out Clarissa digging him up to get them back! But you know Kate, she gets nothing in the will. It all goes to her Aunt."

Kate looked at Nick. "You really think she might –"

"Its mad isn't it?" Nick admitted.

Kate looked up as someone came past the window. "Here's Phil," she remarked. "You could run it past him. Although, Nick Rowan, you're meant to be on sick leave," she said with mock severity.

"All right Kate?" Phil said cheerily as she let him in. "How's Nick's head this morning? I believe the hospital have let him out."

"He's on the sofa," she said "go on through. There's something he wants to talk to you about. Tea?"

"Aye." Phil went through into the small sitting room of the Police House wondering what Nick wanted. "Hey up," he said to Nick, "this is where you're malingering is it? How are you?"

Nick gave him a grin. "Bored already," he admitted.

"Well you're going nowhere for a while," Kate said as she brought Phil's tea in.

"How long will you be on sick leave for?" Phil asked, seriously now. Despite the lightness of his voice he was concerned as Nick still looked pretty tired and groggy. He had a dressing on the gash above his eye and Phil could see he was some way off being himself.

Nick was looking to Kate now for answer to this question.

"About two or three weeks the hospital said," Kate reminded him severely.

Nick sighed.

"Hey," Phil said gently. "Make the most of it!" He took a sip of his tea. "Any road, go on, what did you want to ask me about? We have'nt got much in the way of leads by the way so any theories you have might help."

"Its as I was saying to Kate, its something Blaketon was saying," Nick admitted. "Phil, how much did Clarissa Frankland want that jewellery of her mother's?"

"Pretty badly except she left it a bit late to ask for it back!" Phil shrugged. "Anyway her father said he wanted it buried with him – left a letter to that effect so that would probably be the final word any road." He looked keenly at Nick. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Well Blaketon said he didn't think Clarissa Frankland hated her father enough to dig him up and rob him," Nick replied. "But supposing in fact she did?"


	5. Chapter 5

Phil updated Alf and his Sergeant as to Nick's theory when he got back to the duty room in Ashfordly.

"I said summat along those lines to Rowan but I didn't think the lad was taking me seriously," Blaketon said irritably.

"May not be too far off the mark, Sarge," Alf Ventress replied.

"We've not got a shred of evidence," Blaketon pointed out, "and its that we need not half cocked theories! Happen Rowan has had a harder bang on t'head than we realised!"

Phil smiled then said, "He did look pretty green still this morning Sarge."

"Aye." Blaketon softened a bit. "I'll pop round later and see how he's doing. You two go and speak to Claude Greengrass."

"Eh?" They both spoke simultaneously.

Blaketon sighed. "Think on the pair of yer! Who dug the grave in the first place?"

"Claude," said Phil, getting to his feet.

But Alf was more cautious. "Come on Sarge," he said patiently, "Claude wouldn't have nowt ter do with this."

"Well I suggest you get off yer backside Ventress and go and find out!"

* * *

Claude was shuffling out of his henhouse when Phil and Alf got there a little while later. Alfred the dog barked as they got out of the car. Neither of them took much notice of the scruffy lurcher.

"Shurrup!" Claude bawled at it, "I can't hear meself think wi' that racket."

"Morning Claude," Phil said pleasantly.

Claude narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It weren't me and if anyone says it were me they're lying because I wasn't there!"

"And what might that be Claude?" Alf asked.

"Whatever you've come over here to accuse me of!" Claude said bluntly.

"Not come here to accuse you of owt Claude," Phil replied leaning against the car. "Although we are here to talk about John Frankland."

Claude said, "Oh, him. Him that we buried last week and someone dug up again this week?" He wheezed. "So what you are saying? I'm burying them one week and then digging them up again so I get paid double to put 'em back in again?"

Alf and Phil stared at each other in mock astonishment.

"Well why didn't we think of that young Phil?" Alf said.

"Got it all there haven't we?" Phil replied. "Motive, opportunity, case closed I'd say."

Claude blinked his eyes furiously. "Bugger off!"

"Wait up a moment Claude," Alf said seriously as Greengrass began to shuffle towards his tumbledown farmhouse. "Who dug that grave wi' yer and did any of yer know what were in that coffin.

Claude snorted with laughter. "Course we knew what were in it. The deceased I'd hope!"

Phil had to hide a grin at this. "Come on Claude," he said, "be serious now. Whoever did this gave Nick Rowan a right pasting."

"Aye, I heard." Claude sobered a moment. "I don't have much truck wi' bobbies but there's worse than him."

"I'll pass your sentiments on, Claude," Phil said dryly.

"Any road," Claude went on, "I dug t'grave wi'me usual lad, David Stockwell. Soft in t'head and soft as butter. He'd have nowt ter do with this business and neither did I!"

The two police officers exchanged glances. As expected this was another dead end.

* * *

Millie the young lady summarily dismissed from her job with the Franklands, was meeting her boyfriend Tommy Whitton at a small café in Ashfordly. Tommy was a year younger than Millie and had been a bit of a ne'er do well a couple of years ago but had showed signs of settling down, having got a steady job at a garage in Ahsfordly. The pair were really quite serious about each other but right now Millie was inconsolable and angry. Tommy was angry for her.

"It just ain't right Tom," Millie was saying now. "I worked right hard for old Frankland. And he kept saying there'd be summat for me if I carried on, I'd be looked after. But the old bugger drops dead and not a penny piece for me in that will of his.. It all goes to that old cow of a sister of his!"

"And they just sacked yer without a by yer leave."

"Well, I were owed me wages for three weeks Tom. I could hardly say owt before not with Mr Frankland just died yer know. But I were fair, I helped that sister get that funeral ready and when it come ter it I weren't even invited other than to go ter the wake and help serve tea! Then when I do ask old Agatha about me wages she says that my employment finished when her brother died and I'd had free board and lodging since then so that were me wage! And I asked the daughter and she said it were bugger all to do wi' her !"

"You did damn right walking out Millie," Tom said putting his hand over hers.

"Aye. But it ain't right Tom," she said.

"I could go an' speak to one of the Franklands for yer Mill," he offered. "I don't know as it would do any good though."

"It'd do no good at all Tom." Millie sighed. "I know she would just send you off with a flea in your ear." She sipped her tea. "I have to try. I'll go up to the house and try reasoning with that daughter of Frankland's again and if that fails happen I could try Miss Brice. She's like a companion to old Agatha and she might be able to reason with Aggie for me. Miss Brice were always all right."

"I wish I could do summat ter help though," Tom said.

"You do enough just by being wi' me and supporting me Tom. Right grateful I am." She squeezed his hand in gratitude.

* * *

Kate persuaded Nick to go to bed just after dinner that evening and he didn't raise much argument. She sat on the bed watching him.

"What?"

"I'm a bit worried about you," she admitted.

"I'm all right love. Just tired."

"I wish you'd stayed in that hospital a bit longer." She pulled up the bedclothes. "Will you stay in bed tomorrow?"

He hesitated then said, "Maybe until lunchtime."

Kate grinned. She knew that in itself was a victory.

She was glad in a way when James Radcliffe came round about an hour later.

"Hows the patient?" he asked when Kate let him in.

"Persuaded him to go to bed and he's having a sleep." She put the kettle on. "Bit worried about him really James."

"He was concussed Kate. He may not be himself for a while."

"No I suppose not." She sat down at the table suddenly feeling tired. James noticed it.

"I'll make you that tea," he said making himself useful in the kitchen. "You look all in Kate."

She grinned at this. "Actually," she said, "so do you!"

James made a rueful face. "I admit, the late nights get to me more than they used to!"

Kate felt guilty at once. "I'll be back in full harness next week, I promise."

"Kate!" James put two mugs of tea down on the table and sat down himself. "I'm not making a point! Don't be silly. You've had a lot on your plate. I know how worried you were about your Aunt and you've had a shock after what happened with Nick."

She looked at him. "I worry about him," she admitted. "You think, all these years, I'd have stopped wouldn't you, but still, I'm always glad when he comes home again, safe and sound."

James put a comforting hand on hers. "I admit I don't always realise," he admitted. "How stressful it must be for you."

"Most of the time its not too bad. Its just now and again when you think what might have happened." Kate took a drink of her tea and then seemed to get hold of herself. "But Nick's going to be fine and I'm sure in a couple of days he'll be feeling a whole lot more like himself!"


	6. Chapter 6

The next day a very anxious Millie set off from her mother's home to walk to the Frankland house. Tommy had wanted to come with her but she thought it best if she went alone. She had very nearly changed her mind about confronting Clarissa but felt she had to try. It was the injustice. She had worked so hard and faithfully for the family, she felt wronged. And rightly so.

As she walked up the drive toward the house she planned her strategy. She decided she would try and take the old buzzard by surprise. So rather than go to the front door and knock she thought she would go round the back and if the door were open she would just let herself in. She could see Clarissa's car outside the front door so knew she was about somewhere.

Millie walked down the side of the house and round the corner. There was a jutting out wing here and you had to walk round this wing of the house to get to the kitchen door. In this wing at ground floor level was a room that had been John Frankland's study. It had glass doors which opened onto the rear kitchen garden. These doors were now standing open. Millie hesitated. She wondered if Clarissa was in there.

Cautiously she peered round the door but no one was in the room. But it seemed as though Clarissa had perhaps been called away because the drawers of the heavy antique desk in this room were open and there were some papers strewn on the top. There was also something else and Millie stepped into the room without thought, conscious of her heart rate quickening.

She knew what had been buried with John Frankland. She knew what had been stolen from his grave. She had seen the pieces before and knew what they looked like. So she recognised them instantly – the locket and ring sitting on the desk. They had been in some form of drawstring bag – the bag was sitting next to them. Clearly Clarissa had been examining the items – pawing over them Millie thought, feeling sick. And she had been distracted and left them on the desk for Millie to see.

Suddenly Millie heard footsteps. She knew instinctively Clarissa must not find her here and she fled from the room back through the glass doors. She ran back down the drive just as fast as she could. Only when she was safely through the gates did she stop. She doubled up, panting hard.

She straightened trying to ignore the stitch in her side then let out a scream as she heard someone behind her. Swinging round she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Tommy. You scared me half to death."

"I was worried love. I came after you. I'm sorry." He paused. "Good job I did. What on earth did she do to you? You look terrified!"

"She did nowt. I didn't see her. I went round the back and in through the study. She was around somewhere but I didn't hang around. I ran."

He looked puzzled. "Why? Did you just panic or-"

"Tom I saw summat I weren't meant to see." Millie looked round nervously. "As I went in through the study there was some jewellery on the desk."

"Aye – and so?"

"Tom! It were that jewellery which were buried with Frankland. That were dug up again!"

"Are you sure Mills?"

"Tom, of course I'm sure. When I worked there I had to help Agatha find it so it could be buried with the old man. I know what it was and what I saw!"

"Then how –"

"Don't you see Tom? No one wanted it more than Clarissa and she or someone she paid to do it, dug up her old man to get it!"

"Bloody hell Mills!" He stared at her in shock. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know!" She stared at him in real fear. "I don't know Tom! Will the police even believe me if I tell them what I saw?"

* * *

Kate surveyed Nick thoughtfully. He was on the sofa having come down at lunchtime. He regarded her suspiciously.

"What?"

Kate smiled. "Sorry. I was just thinking you looked better for the rest. Stay there a second, lunch is ready."

She came back with a tray and put it on Nick's knee. Nick regarded it with a lack of enthusiasm.

"Soup." His voice was resigned.

"Its homemade!" Kate looked hurt.

"Sorry love." Nick shrugged. "Not dead hungry, don't know what's up with me."

"You're going to feel out of sorts for a bit," Kate said sympathetically. "That's concussion for you. Its why you were told no work for a few weeks." She sat next to him. "Come on, try that soup for me."

Nick regarded her warily. "Not going to try and spoon feed me are you?" he asked.

"You're being a very difficult patient," she told him crossly. Then she sighed as someone knocked on the police office door. "And you've got customers."

Nick made to put the tray to one side and get up.

"Oh no you don't," Kate said. "I'll see to it. Eat!"

She left Nick to do battle with his lunch and went through to the office. Opening the door, she smiled at the young girl standing there. She knew Millie Stanton reasonably well. Millie's dad had been poorly last year and when Kate had gone to their home to visit him, Millie had been around having taken time off work to help look after her father. Millie had struck her as being a capable, dependable type of girl and so Kate was concerned to see the distress on her face now. She knew she had lost her job with the Frankland household and wondered if that lay behind it but then again that would hardly bring her to the police house door.

"Can I help you – Millie, isn't it?" she asked gently.

"Yes Dr Rowan. I hope you don't mind, it's just I need to speak to your husband. It's a police matter." Millie tried to stop her voice shaking. She felt very nervous about what she was doing but she knew it was the only thing to do. Tommy had offered to come with her but she felt confident enough to go to the local police house with her story.

"Oh Millie. He's on sick leave. You know of course what happened in the churchyard."

Millie's face fell. "I knew he were out of hospital and I thought he was all right, like."

"He's home but far from all right," Kate said gently. "But I can see something's bothering you. I could ring the station at Ashfordly and get someone to come I could drive you over there myself maybe?"

But Millie's nerve was beginning to go. "To be honest Dr Rowan," she said, "I'll leave it. Its nowt I'm sure."

"No Millie. I can tell you're upset and frightened as well." Kate paused. "Come in the office anyway and wait whilst I speak to Nick. If he's up to it I'm sure he'll come through and speak to you."

Millie was persuaded to come in and sit down at the desk. Kate hoped she wouldn't bolt but took the chance anyway and went to see Nick. Nick had pushed away his soup bowl more or less untouched but she let him off given the more pressing circumstances.

"Millie Stanton in the office," she said. "She worked up at Frankland's place."

"Oh yeah. The maid – who walked out or got sacked," Nick said, looking interested.

"She's a bit upset Nick. She wants to talk to you. I offered to get someone over from Ashfordly or take her over there myself but she got quite upset at the thought. She seems very nervy.

"I'll come through and speak to her." Nick got up carefully. Kate watched him.

"I should be discouraging this," she said "but under the circumstances..."

Millie looked up as Nick came in and sat down at the desk opposite her. She noticed the dressing over his eye and the associated bruising. She bit her lip. Could – could Clarissa really have put someone up to doing this?

"I'm sorry Mr Rowan," she said, "you're poorly I can tell."

"Its all right Millie. But I won't be able to be much help to you I'm afraid. You tell me what's wrong though and I'll sort out some help for you." He looked over at Kate. "Kate's going to stay here, is that all right?"

She nodded. "Thank you."

Nick pulled his notebook toward him and picked up his pen. "Take your time Millie," he said.

"All right. Well. I were sacked from the Frankland house wi' no wages. You see, the daughter Clarissa said it weren't her duty to pay me. Mr Frankland's sister, Agatha, said my employment finished when the old man died. I'd had free board and lodging since so why should she pay me?" The girl bowed her head. "I worked for them even after Mr Frankland died Mr Rowan. I helped with the funeral and that. And I ran and fetched for Miss Clarissa. And that's what you get in return."

"I'm sorry Millie," Nick said. "That was wrong."

"Well any road, just after he died Agatha the sister had me looking for some jewellery that he wanted burying with him. I'm telling you this so you know that I know what went in that coffin with him and what was robbed off him whilst he were in that grave."

Nick and Kate looked at each other wondering if this was leading up to Millie revealing she had involvement in the grave robbery. Millie saw what they were thinking.

"I never robbed nothing," she said. "I'm telling you this to point out that I knew what that jewellery looked like and that I'd recognise it again."

Nick nodded.

"All right Millie. Go on."

"I were so upset about not getting me money I thought I would go and ask Clarissa to think again. Mad idea I know but I had to try!" Millie clasped her hands anxiously. "So I went up there earlier, to the house. I decided to go round the back and walk in the house through the kitchen. I thought if I caught Clarissa by surprise it would put her on the back foot so to speak." Millie paused. "So I went round the back and past the study which has glass doors which open onto the garden. The doors were standing open and I stepped into the study. It were like Clarissa had been in there but got called away for something, or gone to get summat. And lying on the desk top was that jewellery Mr Rowan – the jewellery robbed out of her old man's coffin."

Nick took a breath. "Are you sure about this Millie?"

She nodded still looking troubled.

"And what did you do then?"

"I were proper frightened. I ran out of the house and back down the drive."

Nick said slowly, "I have to say this Millie. If you were for example telling me this story to cause trouble for the Frankland family out of some form of revenge and there is no truth in it you would be in a lot of trouble for wasting police time."

"I am telling you the truth Mr Rowan," Millie said in low tones. "I know what I saw. What happens next is up to you."

Nick hesitated then reached for the phone.

"I'm going to phone my Sergeant," he explained to Millie as he began to dial. "I think he needs to come over here and speak to you."

"And in the meantime," Kate said, "I'll go and put the kettle on. You look like you could do with a cup of tea Millie."


	7. Chapter 7

Sergeant Blaketon had gone over to Aidensfield himself in response to Nick's phone call. Now, as Kate showed Millie out of the house, Blaketon sat back in his chair and looked over at Nick on the other side of the desk.

"Well, Rowan?" he asked as Kate came quietly back into the office.

"She seems pretty sure of what she saw Sarge."

"Hm." Blaketon glanced at Nick. "Perhaps that half-cocked theory of yours – which I would point out I put in your head in the first place – isn't so daft after all."

Kate and Nick exchanged glances.

"What happens now," Kate asked.

"I'm going to go back to Ashfordly," Blaketon announced, "and we'll see about getting a warrant. Then we can go and search the Frankland house and see if there's owt there to be found. I just hope that young lady isn't spinning us a yarn."

"I did warn her, Sarge, that if she was, she could be done for wasting police time," Nick said, "but she stuck to her guns."

"Millie Stanton is not the sort of girl who would act maliciously," Kate said softly, "I'm sure of it."

* * *

However back at Ashfordly Police Station events were moving on. Alf Ventress put down the phone and looked over at Phil, sitting opposite him.

"That were Miss Frankland on the phone," he said. "As in Agatha. She's gone over to John Frankland's house for some papers and she said she's found the missing jewellery."

"Eh?"

"You heard. Get yourself over there, lad. I'll phone Blaketon and get him to meet you there."

Phil stood up looking bewildered. "So - are we saying that Clarissa Frankland put it there?"

"I don't know lad," Alf said impatiently. "Go over there and find out what's going on!" He narrowed his eyes. "Not scared of them two battleaxes are yer?"

"Well I don't see you shifting yourself!" Phil pointed out.

"I need to hold the fort don't I?" Alf picked up the phone and began to dial as if to reinforce his point. Grumbling to himself Phil shrugged on his greatcoat and went out to the Police Panda car outside.

* * *

In Aidensfield the phone sitting between Nick and his Sergeant rang. Blaketon snatched it up. "Sergeant Blaketon! Oh its you, Alf." He listened intently. "Well that is interesting. Right, I'll get myself over there."

He banged the phone back down and looked across at Nick.

"They've had a call at Ashfordly," he said. "Agatha Frankland has gone to her brother's house and reckons she's found the missing jewellery. Phil Bellamy's headed over there so I'll go and join him."

As he jumped up Nick got up as well. "I'll come with you Sarge!"

Before Kate could protest, Blaketon retorted, "Sorry, lad, but with respect, a police constable who can't even walk in a straight line at t'moment is about as much use ter me as a chocolate fireguard. You stay here lad and minute we know owt, I'll get back ter yer."

Nick sat back down with a sigh of frustration as Blaketon left the office. Kate put a sympathetic hand on Nick's shoulder.

"I know love," she said, "but Blaketon's right, you'd just be a liability at the moment." She paused. "Come on, come back into the house and sit down. You look like you've had enough excitement for one day!"

* * *

Agatha sat at the desk in the study barely able to believe it. She was holding the jewellery that only the previous week had been buried with her brother in her hands.

John's partner in his solicitor's practice had phoned Agatha to say a couple of files were missing and possibly could John have taken them home to work on prior to his sudden death? Agatha admitted it was possible. She of course had gone through John's desk at home after he had died but at the time had been looking for papers to do with his personal affairs so may well have overlooked any work related documents. She told Mr Atherton she would go and find out.

She did not feel any need to phone and let Clarissa know she was coming. After all, the house was Agatha's (her plan was to sell it at the first opportunity having no wish to live in it herself). Actually, thought Agatha, as she got into her car to drive over, she could kill two birds with one stone. It was really time Clarissa cleared out now. She had come back for the funeral and now, thought Agatha, it was time for her to go. If Clarissa was still around, Agatha thought, she would give her a sharp reminder about vacating the premises.

Arriving at the house Agatha noticed Clarissa's car still outside. Crossly, Agatha went up the front steps and into the long hall way of the house. She paused when she saw in the lobby three suitcases. Well, thank heavens, clearly Clarissa was about to leave.

Clarissa, in the meantime, blissfully unaware of Millie's earlier visit and subsequent discovery, came downstairs and face to face with her aunt in the hallway.

"Good of you to knock on the door Aunt," she said coldly.

"And why should I knock at the door of a house I own?" Agatha said in equally icy tones.

She looked up past Clarissa, startled to see a man come down the stairs behind her.

"My fiancé, Brian," Clarissa said waving her fingers at the man.

"And where has he been skulking around?" Agatha was surprised - she had no idea Clarissa had anyone with her.

"He hasn't been skulking around. He had some business in the area which he took care of whilst Father was deposited in the earth and now he's coming back with me."

"I will let you know the arrangements for re-burying your father. There will be a short religious service. Will you attend?"

Clarissa laughed without humour. "And just why should I do that? It was a total bore, burying him the first time round. I have no intention of repeating the experience. Anyway, he left me nothing, he hated me. He was a cruel man and the world is a better place without him in it!"

Agatha stepped back, rather shaken by the malice in Clarissa's voice. "To be honest I am relieved you won't be attending," Agatha said. "I only asked you out of form's sake. I am so glad John isn't here to see you now Clarissa."

"If he was here, alive," Clarissa snarled, "I wouldn't be! I would not want to be anywhere close in proximity to him. He was a bully, a cruel bully and my God I hated him! Anyway, whatever business you have here, get on with it. We will continue to pack and then we will be on our way."

"He was my brother and I loved him, " Agatha said in a low voice, "and you have no business defiling your father's memory!"

"I feel sorry for you Aunt Agatha. None are so blind as those that cannot see!" Clarissa snapped.

She went back upstairs with Brian who seemed to not have much to say for himself although, Agatha thought, he probably didn't get a word in edgeways. She shrugged and turned to go into the study.

She opened the desk and looked through and found the files that were wanted. As she got up from the desk she knocked Clarissa's handbag which was sitting on top of the desk and it fell to the floor spilling its contents. "Oh for heaven's sake Agatha!" she muttered.

She knelt and began to pick up the things that had fallen out. Purse, hairbrush, the like. However there was also a small drawstring bag or pouch. Curiosity got the better of Agatha. She opened it and tipped it up. Into the palm of her hand fell the stolen locket and ring!

Agatha gave a tiny gasp and sat down at the desk. She took deep breaths trying to calm herself. But she knew with a sickening sensation that the answer to recent horrific events lay right here in the palm of her hand. Finding the jewellery like this could only mean Clarissa was involved.

Without realising she was doing it, Agatha reached out her hand to the phone which fortunately was located in the study and began to dial Ashfordly Police Station. She felt no urge to confront Clarissa because to be honest Agatha was feeling something unknown to her. Fear. She was frightened of Clarissa. _She must be deranged_, Agatha thought to herself.

As she dialled through and spoke to the police Agatha was fixated on what she was doing and not aware that Clarissa had come into the study to pick up her bag. As Agatha put down the phone and sat back, Clarissa moved quickly – snatching up a glass paperweight she brought it down on her aunt's head.

"Clarissa what in God's name?" Brian burst into the study and stared in shock at Agatha, slumped forward onto the desk. "My God have you killed her?"

"And if I have, Brian?" Clarissa shrugged. "If I have?"

He stared at her. "You're mad, Lissa."

"Are you coming with me or or staying here?" was all Clarissa said as she stuffed the locket and ring into her handbag. "I'm warning you if you stay you're in this as much as me."

He gulped. "I'm coming. But this is it, Clarissa. When we're well away from here, we're going our separate ways I'm telling you."

Without any thought for Agatha the two hastened from the house, throwing their bags into the boot of the car and jumping into the car, Clarissa driving. But before she barely moved the vehicle two police cars swung in at the gates and sped up the drive neatly blocking her exit route.

Sergeant Blaketon and Phil Bellamy got out of the vehicles and cautiously approached. Clarissa decided to try and sweet talk her way out of it. She looked up at Blaketon as he approached the driver's window.

"Sergeant Blaketon isn't it?" she asked. "Is there a problem."

"I'm not sure Madam," he said. "Is your Aunt here? She phoned the station a little while ago and that would seem to be her car at the front of the house."

"Yes, she's sorting out some papers I believe. But I do need to get back so –"

"Would you step out of the vehicle Miss Frankland?"

"Well I-"

"Its not a request Miss Frankland it's an order!"

Phil had gone to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. "You too, sir," he said to Clarissa's companion."Mr -?"

"Brian. Brian Thompson." The man got out, looking nervous.

"This is preposterous!" Clarissa snapped as she heaved herself out of the car.

But at that moment there was a distraction. Aunt Agatha, blood oozing from a cut on her head staggered to the front door. She was hanging onto the door for support as she gasped, "Her handbag Sergeant! The jewellery's in there!"

Coldly Blaketon reached into Clarissa's car and removed her bag from the back seat. He opened it and immediately found the missing jewellery.

"Well Miss Frankland?" He showed it to her.

"It's a plant Sergeant!" Clarissa snapped. "My Aunt –she is behind this –"

But at that point Brian ost his nerve. "I had nothing to do with this!" he said wildly.

"Nothing to do with –what?" Blaketon asked.

Clarissa rounded on her fiancé. "Shut up you fool!"

"Oh give it up Clarissa the game's up!" Brian said wearily. He looked back at Blaketon. "But all I did was help her dig up her old man. I'm not falling for anything else." He paused. "In fact you lot owe me."

"Oh yeah?" Phil said scornfully.

"You'll pay for this Brian!" Clarissa snarled as Blaketon said, "We owe you nowt sir."

"Not much you don't!" Brian spoke heatedly. "It was her that hit the copper not me and she would have killed him I think if I hadn't stopped her."

Blaketon and Phil exchanged glances. "Care to enlighten us, sir?"

"She hit him twice. And then she went to hit him again – I pulled her off. She'd have just gone on and on I reckon!"

Phil turned white with anger as Blaketon snapped, "That's enough for now! We'll discuss this down at the station! In the meantime, you're both nicked!" He looked over at Agatha. "And you, Miss Frankland, look to me like you need an ambulance."

Phil glared at Clarissa. "Pretty good at putting people in hospital aren't you?"

* * *

Much later on that day, well into the evening, saw Oscar Blaketon back at the police house to update the Rowans. He, Nick and Kate were in the sitting room going over events.

"Clarissa Frankland is very damaged goods," Blaketon admitted. "She had a major nervous breakdown a few years ago which ended her teaching career almost before it had begun."

"What happened in that house whilst she was growing up?" Kate wondered.

"Does anyone ever know what goes on behind closed doors Dr Rowan?" Blaketon pointed out. "Any road, she was the driving force behind all this. She got her fiancé – who incidentally by now wants no more to do with her and I can't say as I blame him! – to help her as he felt sorry for her. He was happy to go along with digging up the old man as Clarissa thought she might get a few bob out of the will and promised him a share. But when Clarissa started developing a taste for giving people concussion he began to lose his nerve."

"How is Agatha Frankland?" Nick wanted to know.

"She'll be all right. Day or two in hospital and she'll be on the way to recovery." Blaketon paused. "But there is something I need to tell you both. It will come out anyway. Nick, as you know Clarissa hit you twice. But she went to hit you again – it was Thompson who told her to leave it and stopped her."

Nick and Kate looked at each other.

"That could have done a bit of damage if she'd walloped me again!" Nick said keeping his tone light.

Kate put her arm round him for her own comfort as much as anything else.

"I'll leave you two now," Blaketon said, "and you, Rowan, look like you're fit for nowt but bed."

"As I've been telling him for the last two hours!" Kate pointed out.

She saw Blaketon out of the house and then went back to Nick. They sat quietly for a minute or two.

"All right?" she asked Nick.

"Yeah. Just thinking. I don't exactly feel sorry for Clarissa but on the other hand her father sounded a right piece of work."

"Clarissa could have really hurt you," Kate replied. "She's a pretty ruthless woman Nick."

"Think a ruthless streak runs through the entire Frankland family to be honest." Nick sighed.

"Bed for you now," Kate said, "I mean it. And by the way – I love you Nick Rowan!"

He looked surprised. "Where's that come from?"

"I don't know. I suppose all that's happened just makes you think doesn't it." Kate snuggled up to him. "We're lucky you know Nick."

He put a comforting arm round her. "Luckier than we know, sometimes."

Kate sat up and stretched. "Come on," she said, "lets think about going to bed."

Nick made to get up then sighed.

"What?" Kate asked.

"Well I was just thinking – its going to take a bit of living down at the station this is, when I get back to work – getting walloped over the head by a woman! Phil and Alf will get entertainment out of this for weeks!


End file.
